


As I Dig Another Grave

by Kkaepsongiya



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Gen, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, Life Is Strange!AU, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Peter is Kate, Peter/OMC is brief but important, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Sometimes I Feel Bad, Superfamily, Why do I do this to my favourite characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:55:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4214025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kkaepsongiya/pseuds/Kkaepsongiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The next morning was filled with dread. That party on Saturday had left him disoriented, and seeing those videos of himself Sunday night...Peter felt almost numb. He knew that he had to go to school, he had show his face around the place that now represented everything he feared.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	As I Dig Another Grave

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE Dec 14, 2017: I AM COMPLETELY REWORKING THIS STORY SO PLS BEAR WITH ME  
> Story and chapter titles come from Avenged Sevenfold's "Buried Alive"—story is loosely based off the game Life Is Strange

There’s not really any way to describe how Peter feels as he sits at his desk, his phone clenched tightly in his shaking hands. Fear? Anger? Disgust? Shame? It’s 7am and he can hear people moving around the house but he’s still. His eyes are glued to his phone screen, watching the video playing on it. He feels distant, like he’s watching someone in a movie watch tv or something, like he’s not actually in his own body, not actually watching  _ himself _ on the screen. His breath comes out in puffs.

On the screen, in strikingly high quality, is himself, at a party, the one he and Harry had gone to on Saturday. Peter’s stomach drops as he watches himself stumble around, pushing himself on people, kissing anyone that’ll let him, and, finally, falling into some guy’s lap. He only vaguely recognizes the guy’s face but he watches as they make out, the guy grabbing at his ass and his hips before they’re standing up and he’s being pulled off somewhere. The video cuts off there but the text he got includes one more right under it and Peter  _ can’t breathe _ but he needs to know what happened, he can’t remember what happened. He can’t remember most of the night.

He clicks on the video.

The moment it starts, he chokes out a sob.

The camera is focused on his face, Peter laying on his back on someone’s bed, completely naked. He’s looking right at the camera, his mouth open, breathing loudly. After a moment, he whines, his face screwing up a bit and, when the camera backs up, he sees that he’s under the guy from before, the boy pushing into Peter, pinning Peter down with his weight. With the camera pulled back, Peter can see that there are other people too, party goers that have gathered round to watch the show, to watch Peter get fucked, get...he swallows down another sob as the boy begins fucking into him. He watches as he pushes at the body above him, trying to get him off. Watches as he starts to cry, the person holding the camera and the guy above him laughing, the camera zooming in on his face, picking up every tear that falls. With the camera so close, Peter can hear himself whimpering, crying out  _ stop stop stop _ . He’s weak though, he’s  _ drugged _ , he has no strength to get away, to get help. And everyone in the room just  _ watches _ . Some of them cheer the guy on, some of them are filming too. Nobody helps him.

The video ends and Peter is gasping for air, choking for it over his sobs. He feels sick and he barely makes it to the garbage before he’s vomiting stomach acid, his fingers gripping the side of the trash so hard that they’re stark white. He feels weak, faint, like he’s  _ dying _ . Like he  _ wants _ to die. He doesn’t know what to do, the room is spinning around him and his phone is lying on the desk, screen up and taunting him. He almost wants to break it. He startles as his alarm goes off. He’s supposed to be waking up now, getting ready for school.

His heart drops.

School. He thinks about the stares he’ll get. There were so many people there that night and with the videos, he’s not sure how many other people know but he doesn’t doubt that a majority of people do. They know. They all watched him, saw him cry and beg, saw him get taken advantage of, they all watched and nobody helped. In the back of his mind, he thinks briefly that he deserved it—he  _ was _ the one who started it by sitting in the guy’s lap—that he had asked for it, led the guy on. What did he think was going to happen? His stomach twists again.

Peter thinks about the fact that they might run into each other. What would he do in that situation? How could he face someone who did that to him? How could he go to school knowing that that guy and his friends would be there? The thought of it makes his body hurt, the thought of seeing his... _ attacker _ makes his head spin, but he knows he has to go to school. Skipping would raise suspicion amongst his family and he  _ couldn’t _ let them find out about what happened, he could let them see him like that.

With that thought, he pushes himself off of the ground and gets dressed. His thighs and hips have dark marks on them from where he was manhandled and groped to roughly and he shakes as he puts his clothes on. He feels sore all over and he moves slowly as he puts his shoes on, pulling a hat over his head and grabbing his bag. Peter takes a deep breath before moving to the kitchen. Everyone is already gathered there, chatting amongst themselves, and he sits quietly making a bowl of cereal and eating it quickly, trying to avoid conversation. He doesn’t trust himself to keep his composure if any of them start questioning it. Even as he eats, Peter can feel their eyes on the side of his head, wondering about how quiet he’s being but he keeps his head down, eyes focused on his cereal. The quieter Peter is, the quieter the room seems to get until all the conversation has stopped and the only sound in the room is that of Peter’s spoon hitting the inside of his bowl.

“What’s the matter, Pete? Rough weekend?” Tony means well, Peter knows, but the question makes his heart start to race. His brain is whispering  _ theyknowtheyknowtheyknow _ and he does nothing but shrug in response to Tony, not looking away from his cereal. He feels like if he looks at any of them, he’ll break down. He grips his spoon tighter.

“Still recovering from that party on Saturday that you think we don’t know you went to?” At this, Peter drops his spoon and grabs his bag. He barely says “I have to go” before he’s running out of the room and out of the house, his breathing loud and his heart pounding so hard he can hear it banging in his ears. He runs to the end of the street before he stops, his whole body tense. He stands there, hands on his knees, for a while, time passing, cars passing, people passing, until someone touches his back. He jumps away with a yell, whipping around to look at who it is.

It’s Harry, staring at him with this  _ look _ in his eyes and Peter knows.  _ Harry _ knows. Harry doesn’t judge Peter when he starts to sob, just pulls him into his arms. They stand like that for a while and when Peter finally calms down, Harry grabs him by the arm and starts pulling him to his house. Missing one day of school wouldn’t be the end of the world. 

(Peter knows that; his has already ended.)


End file.
